


All These Things and More

by dollylux



Series: Fic Advent Calendar 2014: Brothers, Soulmates, and Other Such Sexiness [12]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Couch Cuddles, Crushes, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Shy Jensen Ackles, Sick Jensen, Sickfic, Sniffling Sneezy Coughing Aching Fever Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:37:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2763311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen has big plans to attend the annual holiday staff party at the school where he teaches, but his plans are thwarted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All These Things and More

**Author's Note:**

> Day twelve of my fic advent calendar. Prompt: flu.
> 
> So, sick!Jensen is literally my favorite thing to read in fic ever. E v e r. I have read every single fic every written where Jensen even sneezes. To say that this is an indulgence for me to write is to vastly understate how much I enjoyed writing this.
> 
> Forgive any mistakes or if it's not very fantastic, I am (ironically) now battling a cold myself.

“Noooo. No, no, no, NO! Goddamnit.” Jensen pulls the covers over his head and groans when instead of yet another episode of the always-charming _The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air_ , _Judge Judy_ starts up, absolutely ruining Jensen’s already shitty morning.

He sniffles pitifully, reaching around outside of his little blanket-prison to feel around for the nearly empty box of Kleenex. He brings it under the covers, just barely managing to pluck one free before he’s sneezing hard enough to make his ears pop.

He whimpers.

 

 

_It’s ten minutes before the bell rings, and Jensen is in the teacher’s lounge pouring himself the biggest cup of coffee that is publicly acceptable, sneaking a bite of one of the powdery donuts that Ms. Harris always brings in just so she can watch Ms. Cortese eat one as primly and cleanly as she can while they stare at each other with secret smiles._

_Jensen chews on his bit of donut that nobody brought for him, that no one thinks is sexy when he eats it, stirring in so much sugar that this cup of coffee will probably be his last. He turns around, full, steaming cup of coffee in his hand, and he nearly walks smack into Jared, the cup sloshing dangerously, splashing hot liquid over the edge to land (thankfully) on the floor between them._

_“Mr. P-Padalecki, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t--”_

_“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Jared is smiling like it truly doesn’t bother him that Jensen almost potentially disfigured him with scorching hot coffee. He steps in a little closer and reaches past Jensen to grab a napkin from the little breakfast station before crouching down right there and wiping up the floor at Jensen’s feet. Jensen holds his breath and his coffee and just watches, bottom lip caught between his teeth, eyebrows drawn together in barely contained adoration._

_Jared stands back up, tossing the napkin toward the waste basket and sinking it right in, his smile on Jensen again. “See? No harm done.”_

_Jensen reaches up and adjusts his glasses, ducking his head to hide the flush on his cheeks. Mr. Padalecki is relatively new here, just started this school year, teaching English to juniors and seniors. His room is just right down the hall from Jensen’s where he teaches History and Western Civilization, and they pass in the hallway all the time, always taking a second to smile at each other, to give each other shy little waves complete with demurely averted eyes._

_Or maybe that’s just Jensen._

_“Oh, hey. You’ve gotta little, uh.” Jared reaches up, one of those big hands coming right toward Jensen, the wide pad of Jared’s thumb touching along the side of Jensen’s mouth. Jensen just blinks at him, eyes wide and probably way too vulnerable to be on a thirty year old man, and Jared’s smile is sweet and a little teasing and making Jensen’s heart pound._

_“Thanks, Mr, Padalecki,” he whispers._

_“Call me Jared, Jensen. Okay? I’m just Jared to you.” Jared takes a step back out of Jensen’s personal bubble, and Jensen takes the time to look him over: his nicely-fitted black button down and his faded jeans and cowboy boots, the sleeves on his shirt rolled up, bands of bracelets and fabric tied around both wrists, a couple of thick, silver rings on his fingers. He’s got his hair back today, tied up in a messy ponytail, and he looks seriously like the most sinfully sexy thing Jensen has ever seen. Jared just watches him right back, probably wondering if Jensen owns anything but sensible sweaters and white shirts and ties._

_The warning bell rings, and Jensen blinks, snapping out of his daydream in which Jared takes his coffee and sets it down and spreads Jensen out over the breakfast station in front of everyone. He takes a step back toward the door, mumbling a goodbye before he turns._

_“Hey, Jensen?”_

_Jensen turns back around after he opens the door, letting in the cacophony of rushing, caffeinated students._

_“Yeah?”_

_“You comin’ to the staff holiday party this weekend?”_

_Jensen glances away shyly, wrinkling his nose to edge his glasses further up on his face, both hands holding onto his coffee now._

_“Yeah, I’m. Yeah. I’ll be there.”_

_Jared’s grin is so big that Jensen has to look up, has to see it. He smiles back, can’t help it._

_“Awesome,” Jared finally says, giving Jensen a long, lingering once-over before he meets his eyes again._

_Jensen feels like he’s going to pass out._

_“Awesome,” he echoes, only barely containing his gleeful grin as he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him, breath shuddering in his chest. He starts making a list of potential gifts to bring for Jared on the long trek down the crowded hallway, thinking that the itch in the back of his throat and the fevered flush of his face for the rest of the day is just because Mr. Padalecki is that damn hot._

 

He’s been out of school for four days, Principal Morgan’s orders, has been curled up and sweating and snotty and shaking and miserable, burrowed under his blankets as every single bone in his body aches. His mom has called three times, his sister twice, and he’s mumbled something to them every time about just leaving him alone, he’ll be fine, it’s just a cold. He drinks straight from a bottle of Nyquil, sucks on bag after bag of Halls honey-lemon cough drops, and hates his life.

Saturday comes, and he’s feeling a little better, feeling more like a human, at least, can partially breathe out of one nostril, and he watches the clock all day, seriously considering getting in the shower, shaving off the grizzly beard he’s let grow in, and going to that damn staff party.

He falls asleep around four, buried under five blankets, and doesn’t wake up until well after nightfall.

Jensen pouts for the rest of the evening, curled up on one side of the couch, drinking peppermint tea and watching _Elf_ , trying to ignore the dull ache in his chest, the one that tells him that tonight was going to be the night, that it really might have happened. (Maybe.) He was going to tell Jared how he feels about him, was going to give him the present that is still wrapped and tucked under Jensen’s tree and tell him that he thinks about him every single day, that he imagines their mornings making breakfast together and carpooling to work and sneaking notes onto each other’s desks and having lunch in the teacher’s lounge with their feet tucked together under the table and what their little family Christmas cards will look like next year (with Sadie, Jared’s dog, of course) and how completely, amazingly Jensen is in love with him.

Or he was at least going to ask him out for coffee.

He doesn’t know when he’ll get the chance to do this again. Doesn’t know when there will be the perfect storm of time and alcohol and holiday cheer to get him to veer his conversation with Jared straight into will-you-be-my-forever-boyfriend territory.

“Stupid, stupid dickhead flu,” he mumbles, glaring at the wadded-up Kleenexes on the coffee table before sneezing a record-breaking six times in a row.

He whimpers.

He drifts back to sleep at some point, some action movie on when he jerks awake, not really knowing how or why but he knows he’s startled and on alert, eyes bleary as he looks around his darkened apartment.

There’s a knock on the door, and Jensen realizes with a start that it’s probably been going on for awhile, that the sounds of it are still echoing around in his mind because it’s what woke him up in the first place.

He just stares at the door for a long moment, mentally preparing himself for actually having to get up, go over to it, open it, and deal with whoever is on the other side.

“Just a minute,” he croaks, the words not getting very far across the room. He pulls his blankets up tight around himself as he pushes himself to his feet, the room spinning at first but it evens out when he shuffles toward the door.

He tugs the chain off and unlocks it, prepared to deal with Gen or Mac or his mom worrying over him and lecturing him about vitamin C and plenty of liquids, but he’s mortified, absolutely, irreversibly embarrassed when he finds himself face-to-face with Jared Padalecki.

“Oh, God,” Jensen rasps, lifting the blankets up to cover his face, hiding his hideousness in case Jared has a photographic memory or an aversion to facial hair or sickly, disgusting weaklings. “Don’t look at me. Just don’t look at me.”

He hears Jared laugh, a short, amused little sound, and he feels one of Jared’s big perfect hands closing around his arm through the blankets.

“C’mon, go sit back down. I’m sorry I made you get up. I couldn’t really scale the fire escape carrying all this, so.” Jared is walking him back through the apartment, and Jensen follows blindly, not pulling the covers back down to reveal how ugly he can truly be to the man he’s hoping will want to be his, even if just for a little while.

He’s guided back down to the couch and he curls up there again, sniffling and snuffling into his blankets, his face flushed hot not from fever but from humiliation.

“Jared, it’s not that I’m not glad to see you because I am. It’s just that… I really, really don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Well, no worries. I can’t see you at all. Not even your fingers. Or your feet.” There’s the sound of things being placed on the coffee table and then the feeling of the cushions by Jensen’s tucked up feet sinking as Jared sits down there, drawing Jensen’s feet up into his lap. Jensen tenses, his eyes squeezing shut tight, breath held in his chest.

“I’m hideous,” Jensen sniffles, reaching out blindly for his box of Kleenex on the coffee table and snatching one so he can pull it back under his blankets and wipe his nose.

“Just saw a hand!” Jared sounds triumphant and like he’s grinning, and Jensen just barely holds in a regretful sigh. He wishes he could have seen that grin. He loves Jared’s smiles. “Anyway, did you get the Beast curse from a witch or something? I just thought you were sick.”

“I am sick. I’m awful. I have the flu and I’m just wretched.”

“Wretched, huh? See, I have this theory. Will you help me out with it?”

Jensen pauses.

“What do I have to do?”

“Just pull the blankets down for a second.”

Jensen tenses even more, tightening his grip on the covers.

“No, please, I’m--”

“Just for a second. Promise.”

He considers it, realizing that he’s curled up on his couch and his dream guy, the adorable and lickable and kind and hilarious Mr. Padalecki is here with him when he could be making out with one of the librarians at the staff party. He takes a deep breath and uncovers his head, keeping his face ducked because he didn’t promise he would look at him or anything.

“Ah. I see,” Jared murmurs, looking him over with a grave expression on his face. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, that just about covers it. Looks like I was right.”

Jensen glances over then, breaking his own rule, his glassy eyes meeting Jared’s.

“Right about what?”

Jared turns to face him more, one of his hands resting on Jensen’s feet tucked in his lap.

“That even though you haven’t shaved in like five days or probably showered or brushed your teeth--”

“I brush my teeth twice a day, it’s important!” Sniffle.

“--and even though you have a Beast curse or the flu, you’re still probably the most beautiful person to ever be born. Ever.”

Jensen just blinks at him, processing that very pleasing flow of words through his foggy mind, and he blushes when it all finally gets through, a tiny smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh._ ” Jared’s hand tightens, giving one of Jensen’s ankles a gentle squeeze, his smile small and intimate, voice quiet, like he knows how much Jensen’s head hurts. “So anyway, the party was terrible. See, I went hoping I would get to spend some time with somebody that I’ve realized I like a lot--like, a lot; kind of embarrassing a lot--only it turns out he was still sick and he didn’t show up. Not to mention the fact that I’ve missed him all week, and it’s just made that whole liking him a lot thing even worse to the point where it could very easily just be called pining. I’ve been pining. I have a present for you and everything. Wanted to watch you open it. And I didn’t have your number, and nobody would give it to me, and it took getting Coach Murray drunk enough that he didn’t realize I had his phone to get a hold of your address. And I stopped at that place you like to go get lunch and got you some chickenless chicken noodle soup and… here I am. Rambling and touching your foot through like fifteen blankets and thinking about how it’s the most precious foot I’ve ever touched.”

Jensen is just staring at him now, all the words swirling around in his mind and ending up as one, giant beautiful feeling, just a relieved elation, and he’s smiling in spite of himself.

“Do you touch a lot of feet?”

Jared sighs, a dimple peeking out as he smirks, leaning forward like he knows exactly how adorable he is.

“Jensen, you’re killing me.”

Jensen doesn’t move but he searches Jared’s eyes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“What am I doing?”

“You’re being so cute and pitiful and sickly, and I can’t even try to kiss you and tell you how good it is to see you.”

Jensen’s throat feels tight, and his hands are shaking under the blankets. He lowers his eyes, forcing his breathing to slow, calm, and his voice comes out softer than he means it to.

“I want you to kiss me. It’s all I’ve wanted for months and months now.”

Jared’s moving then, shifting to get closer to him, and Jensen tucks his legs up underneath him so that Jared can get right beside him, just right _here_ all of a sudden, smelling so amazing and feeling so unbelievably warm that Jensen wants to curl up against him, to get Jared to hold him so he can sleep.

“ _All_ you’ve wanted?” Jared whispers, his smiling lips ghosting over Jensen’s cheek. Jensen closes his eyes and tips his face up, exhaling a sigh over Jared’s skin.

“Just the very beginning of what I want.”

Jared presses a kiss to Jensen’s cheek, mouth closed and soft, the kiss reverent, slow, like it’s exactly what Jared has wanted to do for a long time. Jensen’s hands are out from under the blankets without his permission, they’ve found Jared’s without even realizing it, fingers lacing together, palms lining up, warm, warm, warm.

He kisses the side of Jensen’s nose next, and Jensen ducks his head to nuzzle into it, their cheeks sliding together, the whole world quiet, solemn around them, the snow falling outside muffling everything down to keep this moment as sacred as it started. Another kiss against his trembling eyelid and then the center of his forehead before Jared tips his face down and kisses just behind Jensen’s ear, his breath warm right there, the sound of his breathing starting to become a comfort, a familiar sound.

“Will you get under the blankets with me and hold me and watch _3rd Rock to the Sun_ with me? And in the morning we can wake up and open our presents and make pancakes and get back into bed?” Jensen wraps his arms around Jared’s neck, hugging him in a way that is more just hanging onto him, his body pliant, so he goes easily when Jared tugs them to lie back down on the couch, all the covers getting piled up around them, enveloping Jensen in perfect, solid warmth and Jared.

Jared reaches for the remote and presses a kiss to Jensen’s temple, smiling there while he goes through Jensen’s DVR.

“If I get sick, too, will you baby me and give me sponge baths and rub my shoulders and promise to only get me the original Ricola’s cough drop thingies?”

Jensen grins, relaxing down against Jared, tucking his face against his chest and letting out a long, contented sigh.

“Promise.”

“Good.”

Jared starts an episode up, and Jensen’s eyes slip closed, all this warmth tugging him under immediately.

“Hey, Jared?”

“Hmm?”

“You promise you’re not a fever dream?”

Jared’s chest jumps as he breathes out a laugh.

“Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing.”


End file.
